


it's a chance we'll have to take

by killianslonghaul



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions, Matchmaker Octavia, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 04, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-11-29 02:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11431701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killianslonghaul/pseuds/killianslonghaul
Summary: “You thought the person you loved was dead for six years and then found out she wasn’t. You can’t let that go. Not everyone gets a second chance like that.”orBellarke reunion after Praimfaya and subsequent feelings





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, so this is my first time really spitting out a full length fic for Bellamy/Clarke. I've done little drabbles on tumblr but this is longer and more thought out and all that fun, anxiety provoking stuff. That being said, I've officially slaved over this first part as much as I think I can. If you have any comments, suggestions, or criticisms to help me when writing these characters that I have come to cherish and love so much, please feel free to let me know! 
> 
> Thanks! xoxo

When people first come off of the unfamiliar ship that appeared on Earth, Clarke stands hidden in the shadows with Madi for a long moment, contemplating whether she should approach them. They seem harmless enough-- a few men, women, and children, varying ages among them. She glances at Madi, knowing that if not for her, she would have likely already revealed herself.

But right now, Madi is all she has, and she can’t risk her.

So she watches silently and assesses them. Her gun is gripped tightly in her hand, just in case. They’re all surveying the area slowly and carefully. One of the men touches a tree, the grass, another plant, and then pulls out a tablet. He considers it for a moment, touching it a few times, and then he nods and says something to the man behind her that she can’t hear. Clarke recognizes the authority in the man with the tablet as the other man nods and seems to follow whatever instruction he was given.

She hasn’t noticed that any of them have guns.

At least, not big ones.

Taking a deep breath, Clarke turns and puts her hands on Madi’s shoulders. “Stay here. I’m going to go talk to them.”

“If I come with you, maybe they’ll be less likely to be aggressive. They have children.”

It’s not the worst logic, actually. If these people aren’t here for violent purposes, a child would be more likely to assure that they stay that way.

But if they are…

She considers for a moment, but in the end, she trusts her gut and shakes her head. “I think I’ll be okay. Here.” She hands Madi the gun she’s holding. “How about you watch my back for me?”

Madi swallows but nods, holding the gun up already. Clarke smiles at her determination to do the job, her heart twisting just a little. She presses a kiss to her head and then stands, walking into the clearing.

“Hello?” she speaks almost immediately to avoid them thinking she was trying to be sneaky.

The man with the tablet looks up from it and his eyes widen. “Hi.” He blinks a few times, his mouth opening once, twice, as if he wants to speak, but can’t form words. Finally, he walks toward her, still incredulous. “Excuse my confusion. We weren’t expecting to find anyone alive here.”

Clarke nods. “That’s understandable.”

They’re within a few feet of each other now, so she extends a hand. “My name is Clarke.”

“George.” He shakes her hand, smiling just a little. “Is there anyone else?”

_Probably?_

But she nods firmly. “There are twelve hundred people in a camp several miles from here.”

 _In a bunker_. _If they’re alive_.

“Twelve hundred?” Something flashes in his eyes that makes Clarke’s stomach turn, but she keeps the smile on her face.

His pocket beeps and he pulls back out the tablet, shaking his head. “Sorry, we have some… passengers that are being difficult.”

Clarke steals a glance at the screen as he pulls up what looks to be camera footage. She sees a small room with very little furniture in it, reminding her of a prison cell.

With seven people in it.

Her heart leaps into her throat as she recognizes them immediately. Echo, Emori, and Murphy sit in a corner. Raven is sitting on a chair, head in her hands. Monty and Harper are on a cot, leaning against the wall behind it.

And Bellamy is hitting the door with the side of his fist, yelling something.

 _They’re alive_.

She tries to swallow her gasp, but instead it comes out as a stuttered breath, which draws George’s attention anyway. Before she can look away, he sees that she’s watching the screen. His head tilts, and she feels uncomfortable as he scrutinizes her. She forces herself to pull her gaze away, but she already knows it’s too late. He’s recognized her expression, placed it already for what it is.

Her friends are alive and it’s the happiest she’s felt in _years_.

“Friends of yours?”        

“Yes.” He already knows. No sense in lying.

Her gaze goes back to the screen, where Bellamy is running a hand through his hair and everyone is watching him. The locks are longer than she’s ever seen them, the curls a mess on his forehead and neck. She can see the weight of the last six years on his shoulders, the way he looks at all of them and deflates because he thinks they’re hopeless.

“We found them on a craft on our way in and they denied any attempts at joining our group or an alliance of any kind.” George’s tone has shifted, and Clarke thinks of Madi, hiding in the trees several yards behind her. It’s the only thing keeping her feet grounded even though her world feels like it’s spinning.

_They’re alive, they’re alive, they’re alive._

She has to save them, has to get them out, has to make sure they’re really okay. Her mind is racing, going over options and trying to think rationally.

“Why have you come here?” she asks, proud of herself for keeping her voice level even though her throat is tight, her stomach in knots. She refocuses her attention on him as he responds.

“To live, of course,” George laughs, tapping something on the tablet and then putting it away once again.

“If that’s true, then I can help you.” She digs her nails into her palm to keep it from shaking. “I have lived here for six years, since the fire that destroyed the earth. I know where the best places are to find food, what things are safe to eat and what isn’t, where water can be found.”

“That would be great.” His friendly tone is back, his smile big. His eyes, however, remain dark.

 _Stay calm, save your friends, get back to Madi_.

“But let my friends go.”

His smile lessens, his lips pursing as he considers her. “They’ve been very difficult, Clarke.”

“So you should be happy to release them. They won’t be a bother to you anymore and you’ll have my full and total knowledge of how to survive here as well as my complete cooperation.” She takes as deep of a breath as she can without letting on that she’s been holding it.

George is silent for a long moment as he regards her, eyebrows furrowed and hands on his hips. He glances back at the group of people who left the ship with him, most of which are still looking around or wandering. A few are staring in their direction, whispering amongst themselves.

“Alright.” He isn’t happy, but he turns back to her and nods.

“Thank you,” she sighs, smiling. “And as a sign of good faith, you can find a watering hole about a mile west of here, as well as several edible plants. I can draw pictures of the ones that are safe, but most of them in that area are.”

She points in the direction, and George nods. “We appreciate it. Stay here. I’ll return with your _friends_.”

 Clarke does as he asks as he disappears back into the ship, and she peers back and scans the forest. It takes a moment for her to locate Madi’s head peeking out just barely. The girl stands a little straighter and Clarke shakes her head and smiles, holding out a hand and making sure she knows to stay. Madi nods and ducks back down, so that all Clarke can see is the very top of her head, if she squints.  

And when she turns back around, the first thing she sees is _him_.

\------

“Seriously, Bellamy, it’s not doing any good and it’s driving me crazy. Sit down.”

Bellamy shakes his head, looking back to see Raven’s eyes sharp but still pleading. “My sister is out there and these _people_ are keeping us locked up.”

“We have people we care about on the other side of these walls, too,” Harper says, sighing. “But bruising your fists and yelling isn’t helping anyone. It’s probably just going to make it worse.”

Harper leans against Monty as she speaks, and Bellamy glances around at everyone for the first time since they landed on Earth. They’re all tired—shoulders slumped and bags under their eyes—but they’re still looking at him, expecting him to be a leader.

There’s a familiar pang in his chest at that thought, though it isn’t as sharp as it used to be. It still aches and radiates through his body, but it’s something he’s learned to live with. Sometimes, he even considers it a comfort that the pain is still there, that he still misses her even after all these years. It’s a reminder that she was real, that the impact she had on him was valid, that maybe even after being gone for so long, that she’s still with him.

 _Being his head_.

Running a hand through his hair, he sits down on the floor on the other side of Echo, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his forehead on them. In his mind, he tries to imagine what she would say, how she would handle being locked in here, but he comes up with nothing.

He can’t hear her voice as clearly as he used to be able to, has to focus hard to picture her smile, the way she’d narrow her eyes at him. That hurts more than anything, that there might come a time when those things are lost to him.

It’s one of the reasons that he clings so desperately to the pain that her absence still brings. He doesn’t want to lose her memory, doesn’t want to forget how important she was, doesn’t want to lose the Clarke sized hole in his heart because he’s worried eventually that will be all that’s left.

Echo shifts just a little closer, and he takes the smallest amount of comfort from that. When she reaches out to put her hand on his knee, he glances over at her and smiles just a little, even though he knows it’s the sorriest excuse he could have mustered. She returns it, a bit more genuinely, and then presses the lightest kiss on the corner of his mouth. “We’ll be alright.”

He nods and then sits up straighter, feeling the guilt that usually accompanies her affection in proximity to him thinking about Clarke. It isn’t fair to her, he knows, that part of him will always be unavailable to her.

The part of him that died with Clarke.

He knows that she’s aware of that, too, but she never seems to mind. She lets him walk away if it’s too much, listens to him without ever complaining, and lets him lose himself in her late at night when he needs the release or the distraction.

He appreciates having her around, but he’s not in love with her, and they both know it. Still, he puts his hand over hers on his knee and holds it. When he glances back over at her, she’s staring straight ahead, but there is a content smile on her features.

It makes him feel a little better.

When the door opens, though, he stands immediately, and he can feel everyone in the room holding their breath. It’s the same man who’s talked to them nearly every time— their leader, he supposes. His face is as stern as always, and he fixes them all with a glare.

“Turns out you have a friend on the outside who’s made a deal on your behalf. Follow me.” He shrugs. “Or don’t and stay here. Your choice.”  

“Must be someone from the bunker,” Murphy says, now standing beside Bellamy as the man turns and walks out. They all follow, carefully, and a few minutes later, the sun is in his eyes as they walk out onto Earth for the first time in six years.

When the man stops at the door, Bellamy looks back at him, holding his gaze for a moment. Suspicion makes his stomach turn, but the man simply stares out at them, features stern. The only thing following them is his eyes.

He’s really letting them go.

Someone beside him gasps, but before he can turn his head around to see what’s caused the reaction, a body collides with his.

If it weren’t for Monty behind him, he would have stumbled for sure, but the hand at his back stops the motion. Regardless, the breath is knocked out of him as two arms are flung around his neck. His split second thought is his sister, but then he sees blonde hair and his entire world _stops_.

(There’s no way.)

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” is whispered in his ear, and it’s _her_.

It’s _her_ voice, and _her_ arms, and _her_ blonde curls.

(It’s impossible.)

He tries to say her name but his throat is too tight, his chest too constricted. So, he wraps his arms around her and holds on as tightly as possible, and he doesn’t realize that he’s crying until a sob escapes his throat. Her arms hold just a little more firmly at the sound. Another moment passes before she pulls back and he sees her face, sees that she’s smiling and _she has red in her hair_ and she’s crying, too. He takes it all in as she reaches up to wipe at his cheeks and he does the same, tracing every line and touching the red streaks and convincing himself that she’s real.

Maybe the air is still toxic and this is what his brain has come up with for him to see as he dies.

A tiny laugh escapes her mouth as she squeezes his arms. “Bellamy.”  

It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, and he can feel himself laughing a little too, incredulous. He has so much he wants to tell her but he still can’t form words on his lips. His heart is beating so hard in his chest, harder than it has in six years.

(Was it beating at all without her?)

Everyone else surrounds her now, and she turns her attention to them briefly, hugging them. He watches, unable to take his eyes off of her for a second, afraid she’ll disappear if he does. She laughs when Murphy briefly lifts her feet off of the ground with a bear hug, and even Echo wraps her arms around Clarke for a moment, a smile gracing her features.

And then she’s back in front of him and he wraps her in his arms again, and it’s then that he finally finds his voice. “Clarke,” he murmurs as he closes his eyes and presses his face into her hair, his lips into her forehead, touching as much of her as possible. “You’re alive.”

“So are you,” she whispers back from where she’s tucked beneath his chin. Her arms are linked behind his back and he concentrates on how good it feels to have that weight there, to feel her pressed against him and _warm_ and _breathing_.

“Because of you.”

She picks up her head and looks up at him, arms staying at his waist. Her mouth opens, but Murphy’s voice stops anything she might have said.

“I am as happy as the next guy that we’re all alive and stuff, but can we get a little farther away from this damn ship and everyone in it?”

They all laugh and Clarke detangles herself from his arms, but doesn’t move any further away. He still has to fight the urge to pull her back, the absence of her touch making him ache.

“Yes.” Her smile widens just a little as she looks into the forest. “Besides, there’s… something I want to show you.”

She starts walking toward the woods, and Bellamy follows step for step, only stopping when she does at the voice from behind them.

“Don’t be too far, Miss Clarke. We wouldn’t want to have to look for you.” The man that let them out speaks loudly, very clearly an in-charge type, and Clarke nods, eyes narrow, and then turns and continues walking.

“What did you do?” Monty asks, and Clarke sighs.

“I told them I’d help them with food and water and stuff, but I have a feeling they’re going to be a bigger problem than that.” Her brows are furrowed and he shifts so that they’re a little closer, their hands brushing as they walk.

“We’re together now,” Raven says, smirking. “I’d like to see them try.”

Clarke grins briefly but then turns serious. “Everyone else is still in the bunker. There’s a lot of rubble and I haven’t been able to get them out yet, but… maybe with all of us we can.”

“Probably wouldn’t hurt for us all to get some rest first. We haven’t been sleeping much the last few days.” Emori’s suggestion hangs for a moment, and glances are passed between them until Clarke’s eyes find his.

 “Is that okay?”

He forces his gaze away to look at everyone around them before looking back to her. “Yeah, I think we could all probably use the rest. We’ll head out first thing in the morning.”

“Can you radio them?” Raven asks.

Clarke shakes her head. “I haven’t been able to, but maybe with you here, we can figure out a way to—“

“Clarke!” A voice from in front of them calls her name as they get past the tree line and for the first time since they were reunited, she leaves his side to embrace the girl running toward her. “Are you alright? Are these your friends? From space?”

The girl is small, probably about ten or eleven, with long brown hair. She looks up at Clarke with bright eyes, and then glances over at the rest of them. Though she seems excited, she stays glued to Clarke’s side.

“They are.” Clarke’s smile is wide as she turns back to the group, keeping one arm around the girl. “Guys, this is Madi. She’s a nightblood, so she survived the death wave, too. Madi, this is—“

“Wait!” Madi stops her, hesitating only briefly before taking a few steps forward. “I want to guess.”

Unable to look away from Clarke, Bellamy watches as her eyes light up and she laughs, this one even more beautiful than the one before it. “Okay, go ahead.”

He manages to pull his attention to Madi as she looks at all of them, assessing each person and then putting one hand on her hip as she points.

“Emori and Murphy,” she guesses correctly, gesturing to the couple standing to his left.

She then points at Monty and Harper. “Monty and Harper.”

The two in question smile and nod, and Madi grins as she turns to Raven and Echo, to his right. Her brow furrows, and then she moves her finger Echo. “Echo? So you—“ She points at Raven. “—must be Raven.”

Finally, she looks at him, and her smile is as big as it’s been since she started. “And you have to be Bellamy.”

Everyone laughs and Madi joins them, looking back at Clarke. “I got them right, didn’t I?”

Clarke nods. “Yes, my little nightblood. Very good. You were paying attention to the stories.”

“Stories?” Raven asks, brows raised.

“We had a lot of time to pass. I had a lot of stories to tell about my best friends.” Clarke shrugs. “Don’t worry, _most_ of them were the good ones.”

The look she shoots him makes his heart jump so hard that it hurts, clenching in his already tight chest. He has to break their eye contact to reign in the organ, inhaling slowly as he takes in the trees. They look greener than he was expecting, the life in them stronger than he had imagined they’d be.

His attention is drawn back to Madi as she gestures with her hand. “Come on, our camp is this way.” And then she picks a rather large gun up off of the ground as if it’s weightless and heads even further into the woods.

They follow, and Clarke falls back into step beside him. Her presence is heavy at his side, something that he missed so much and that he never thought he would feel again. As if she can feel his gaze, she looks at him and the corners of her lips quirk up. She bumps her shoulder against him playfully and he wants to hug her again, or kiss her, or wrap an arm around her as they walk, or even physically attach her to his side so that he never has to be away from her again.

In the end, he settles for nudging her shoulder in return, which makes her smile widen. As they walk, her arm brushes against his with nearly every step, and that piece of him that died, that he thought was gone forever, breathes again.

\------

 “You know we can’t trust them.”

Bellamy’s voice is quiet, meant only for Clarke as they sit in the back of the Rover, the rest of the group around a fire not too far in front of them. Bellamy has one knee pulled up to his chest and Clarke has her legs crossed in front of her, so that her knee is resting on his outstretched thigh. The touch is comforting, and the constant thankfulness he feels of having her next to him and alive swells.

She’s picking at the skin around her nails, biting on her bottom lip. “I know. But we’ve handled worse. Once we have everyone out of the bunker, we’ll figure out what we need to do.”

Sighing, he pulls her hands apart from each other. “Stop, you’ll hurt yourself.”

She looks up at him from the corner of her eyes and then rolls them, but there’s no heat behind it. “I’ll be fine.”

“Still.” He smirks over at her and she scrunches her nose up, glancing out at the others in front of them. Raven is speaking and Madi is listening intently, her entire body leaning toward whatever story is being told. He watches as her face softens, watching the girl ask questions and Raven patiently answer them.

“When did you find her?” he asks, trying not to make it too obvious that he leans a little closer, until their arms are pressed together.

“About six months after.” Her voice is quiet. When he looks over at her, she seems far away. Lost in a memory. Her hands have stilled in her lap. “I was trying to find food and found her, lost and alone and… scared. She didn’t talk to me for a really long time, but I fed her and talked to her, and eventually… she let me in.”

Silence lingers for a moment as they watch the group, and guilt builds in his chest, almost as heavy as the guilt of leaving her to die. “I’m glad you had her,” he finally says, staring down at the ground. His eyes are stinging and he rubs at them quickly. “I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

As if easily sensing his distress, she reaches over and puts a hand on his knee. “Don’t, Bellamy. It’s okay. You did what you had to do and exactly what I wanted you to do. We’re all here, all alive. Because of you.”

“Because of _you_ ,” he corrects, shaking his head. “You saved us. Not me.”

“It was both of us,” she compromises, shrugging. “Either way, I’m proud of you.”

The words slip easily from her lips, and his breath catches. She said them so casually, like it were the most basic and true thing in the world. Yet, he feels the warmth of it pulsing through him, even after she pulls her hand back, into her own lap.

Silence lingers for a moment as they stare at the fire. Clarke shifts, and a glance in her direction reveals that she’s pursing her lips, brows furrowed. There’s something she wants to say, he can tell, but she’s contemplating.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” As an afterthought, he adds, “If you want.”

He winces a little at the way the statement feels flat. Has six years changed them? Will she still trust him in the same way, or do they have to start over? He can still read her just as easily and she hasn’t given any indication that their current proximity is an issue, but he shouldn’t assume.

“I had you, too,” she finally whispers. “I talked to you on the radio every day, even though I knew the odds of you being able to hear me were low. I always imagined what you would say if you could hear me, and I told you what was happening and how Madi was doing. It helped.”

Speech fails him as he processes her confession, and he doesn’t look at her until he figures out how to breathe again.  It isn’t much, really, just an admission that she missed him, needed him. Yet, the air seems thinner and his eyes are burning even after he blinks. His world is shifting back into place and he’s berating himself for ever even entertaining the idea that he could love anyone else.

He loves her, and only her. He probably always will.

When he peeks over at her out of the corner of his eye, she’s watching him, looking worried.

“Is that weird?”

It’s then that he realizes he hasn’t said anything yet, and he shakes his head a little too vehemently. “No, no that’s not weird. I…” He hesitates, but then shrugs. “At least you had reason to believe we were alive and could hear you. I… I thought you were dead and still talked to you, wondered what you would do and imagined what you’d say all the time.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, but he can see her smile in her eyes. “So you didn’t forget about me.”

“Not even for a second, Princess.”

“Hm,” she hums, and then she surprises him, moving her head to rest it on his arm. He bites on the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too big, from giving away how much his heart is flying, racing and jumping in a way that he thought he would never feel again. His head is still trying to catch up, to understand that the girl he loves is here, alive and okay.

Trying to swallow past the emotion closing up his throat, he shifts his arm to wrap it around her, and her head slips to his chest. “I missed you so much.”

His whispered admission is gravelly, the words feeling much larger than they are. He wraps his other arm around her, too, holding tight. She leans into his touch, hands coming up to hold the arm across her chest. He presses his face into her hair and breathes, trying to savor the moment. Her response is quiet, a small murmur into the crook of his elbow, but he hears her as clearly as if she’d screamed the words. “I missed you, too.”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to note that I suck at actual* plot not relating to relationships. The prison/mining colony people? I have no idea what they'll do, what storyline they'll be apart of, and I'm not trying to pretend that what they do in my story is in any way realistic. They are here to be plot devices for the relationship and feelsy stuff and to cock block a little, nothing more. I do apologize if that takes away from the quality of the story, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! :)

Clarke wakes up as soon as sunlight starts peering over the horizon, blinking and reaching over to touch Madi’s shoulder out of habit. The girl is still curled up to her left, exactly where she left her, sound asleep. She probably will be for a bit longer unless Clarke wakes her.

_Not yet_.  

The weight of a person on her other side is firm—a chest pressed against her side, a hand resting on top of her arm, a leg underneath her own. She shifts enough so that she can look at Bellamy, lying on his stomach asleep. When the time had come last night, she’d told him he could stay in the rover. He had smiled easily and asked Madi’s permission, and Madi had given it before settling in on Clarke’s left side and falling asleep. After taking off his shoes and jacket, he had laid down on the opposite side next to her, his face so close that she could feel his breath on her forehead.

In the quiet that settled over everyone, he’d reached up slowly, watching her closely the entire time, and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “I can’t even tell you how happy I am that you’re alive,” he had murmured with eyes already half closed, his touch gone as soon as it had come. That hand had come to rest on her arm, and, apparently, had stayed there throughout the night.

His eyes had fluttered completely shut before she could formulate a response, so she’d closed her eyes and fallen asleep as well. The last conscious thought she’d had was that his warmth was encompassing, a comfort that spread through her entire body and made her feel like everything was going to be okay, as long as she had him by her side.

Now, he looks peaceful, the stress she had recognized in him yesterday already seeming to fade. Her attempts at subtle movements fail, and he stirs, blinking awake. His thumb moves up and down on her arm for a moment as he shifts, but he doesn’t pull it away.

 “Morning,” he mumbles, his voice sleepy. She smiles at the sound, and his expression mirrors hers, the laziest curve of his lips pulling up his features.

“Morning,” she replies, feeling her skin tingle as he looks at her. She bites on the inside of her cheek to push back a tremble, suddenly much more aware of his proximity as the last of the sleep in his eyes disappears.

(It’s been a while since she’s been this close to anyone but Madi, _that’s all_.)  

“So it wasn’t a dream.” His stare is intense as he assesses her, _too_ intense, and she breaks her eyes away to look at his chest instead.  

“No.” The response is a breath, weak and quiet, but it’s all she can manage. She still doesn’t meet his eyes, afraid of what she might see if she does.

A moment passes and she can feel him watching her, and she wonders briefly what he’s looking for, what he’s trying to find in her expression. Will he find it? Or will he be disappointed?

She pushes away the question, not really sure if it’s one that she wants answered.

Eventually, he gives up and sighs, sitting up so quickly that she inhales sharply at the sudden loss of contact. Cold air infiltrates the space where he was, and she shivers, running a hand over her arm where his used to be. Following his lead, she scoots until she’s sitting beside him, looking at the six other sleeping figures on the ground in front of them.

“We should probably get moving toward the bunker,” he says, glancing over at her. He seems serious all of a sudden as he pulls on his shoes. The softness that was in his eyes just a moment ago is gone, and she recognizes the walls that have replaced them.

Protecting himself.

( _From her_?)

An ache starts low in her chest as she watches him move. She could easily say something to negate the tension that has settled, she knows. She could reiterate his sentiment from the night before, let him know how happy she is that he’s alive. Something. Anything.  

(But she’s scared, _so_ scared of saying the wrong thing, or saying too much, getting herself into something that she isn’t ready to even think about.)

(Will she ever be?)

“Okay,” she agrees instead, turning and brushing a hand over Madi’s forehead before shaking her shoulder just a little. Madi grunts, but her eyes flutter open just as the rover shifts at the loss of Bellamy’s weight.

Clarke looks out at him as he starts waking up the others. They listen as he tells them to get up, stretching and folding up the blankets they had gotten the night before and tucking them into bags. He offers Echo a hand as she gets up, and the smile that she gives him makes Clarke’s stomach turn. She ignores the sensation, focusing instead on Madi as she gets up until the feeling dissipates, and by the time she looks back, everyone is standing and pulling on shoes.

Their eyes meet, and he watches her for a moment before his features soften again, his face minutely shifting until he looks like _her_ Bellamy. The smile that pulls up the corners of his mouth is small, but genuine. It eases the turmoil churning in her stomach, and when he walks back over to where she and Madi are now sitting, he smirks in a way that she recognizes and asks if he can drive.

It makes her laugh, but she reaches back into a side cubby and hands him the keys.

She’s never seen him smile so big.

\------

They wind up needing to recruit even more help to clear the bunker, but Clarke takes a basket of vegetables to the prison ship with Bellamy, and though they are upset that they were somewhat lied to (“You failed to mention that you people were currently unavailable when we spoke”), they agree to help.

Within two days of coming back down to earth, Octavia is in Bellamy’s arms, her grip tight and her smile wide. Twelve hundred and four people come out, a few infants cradled in the arms of their mothers. All healthy. All happy.

“I knew you could do it,” he tells her, his heart spilling over with happiness.

“Thank you,” she whispers back, and then someone calls her name. She pats his shoulder and says she’ll be right back before heading away from him.

He watches her for a moment, but then sits down on a large piece of rubble and watches everyone else, content and smiling and soaking in the sunshine.

They did it. They survived.

In the distance near the trees, he sees Clarke shake George’s hand and then he and his men are gone, disappearing back in the direction of their own camp.

Clarke stares after them for a moment, brows furrowed. Shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts, she turns and asks someone next to her a question. They answer her, and then she heads toward one of the particularly big groups that are huddled.

Probably finding her mom, he thinks, as he loses her blonde hair for a moment.

“If you stare at her any harder, you’re probably going to put a hole in her head.”

Bellamy jumps just a little at his sister’s voice as she sits down beside him. _She came back fast_. “Huh?” he asks, even though he heard her clearly.

(And he knows she knows he did.)   

He pulls his eyes away from Clarke and looks over at Octavia in time to see her roll her eyes. When she speaks, her voice is dry. “What? Did you two _finally_ get together while you were skipping around on the Ark in space and staring down at a burning planet?”

“No,” he answers, a little too quickly, and when Octavia’s brows shoot to her hairline, he sighs, exasperated. “Clarke didn’t go with us.”

Now, her brow furrows. “What? What do you mean?”

“She was getting the tower aligned so that we’d be able to turn the power on at the ark, and… she didn’t make it back in time. We left, made it to the Ark. I thought… I thought she was dead. But… the nightblood solution that she’d injected herself with worked. So when we made it back down, she was here.” His words come quickly, and when he stops, he feels like they aren’t enough. There are more details, so much more that is being left out. But his throat is dry as his heart squeezes at the memory, so for now, it works. 

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah.”

A moment passes where nothing is said, and then—“So you’re just staring at her because you thought she was dead for six years, but two days ago, you found out she’s not.”

_And because that made me realize just how much I love her._

“Basically.”

“And that’s the only reason.” Octavia’s tone is knowing, her awareness of his thoughts feeling more like an annoyance than anything else.

“Basically,” he repeats, wincing as the statement comes out weaker than he’d intended.

Octavia becomes incredibly still next to him, her body stiff as she stares at the ground. Her lips are pursed and she almost looks angry, her jaw suddenly tight. He waits, thinking she’ll break out of it and tease him or let it go.

Instead, she surprises him and shakes her head. “You can’t do this to yourself, Bellamy. Or to her. You have to tell her how you feel.”

His gaze shifts from his sister’s hard eyes, returning to the girl not too far in front of him. She’s found Abby and pulled her to the side, where they now stand talking, expressions somber. Clarke had come up beside him as soon as they’d gotten the prison ship’s agreement to get their people out and told him that she’d talk to her mom about what had happened. Part of him had wanted to take that burden away from her, but she’d insisted, so that was what she was doing now.

She was telling her mom how he’d left her to save everyone else, how the nightblood had miraculously worked, how she’d found another nightblood and hadn’t been completely alone for an entire six years.

He sighs, turning his attention back to Octavia. Her expression has softened a little, but remains stern. “I don’t know.”

“Do you love her?”

The simplest question, but it weighs heavy in the air between them. _Of course he does_ , but every time he tries to think of how to tell her, he thinks of all the reasons that he shouldn’t, all the things that could go wrong, all the pain he would feel if she rejects him and what that would mean for their friendship, for their ability to be a team.

(Especially after six years apart.)

“Yes,” he breathes, looking down at his feet. “But it isn’t that easy.”

“Nothing worth it is, but Bellamy—” She reaches over and puts her hand on his shoulder. He looks over at her, and he’s shocked to see her eyes glistening. “You thought the person you loved was dead for six years and then found out she wasn’t. You can’t let that go. Not everyone gets a second chance like that.”

An old ache tugs in his chest, and he swallows past the lump in his throat. “O, I---“

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty for anything that happened in the past.” She cuts him off, blinking quickly. Her hand falls away and she faces forward again. “I’m trying to make sure you _don’t_ feel guilty about this later. You have to try, you have to tell her. No being scared or asking yourself a thousand “what if’s”. Just… don’t waste your second chance, Bell.”

In front of them, Clarke hugs her mom, and from over Abby’s shoulder, she smiles at him, giving him a little thumbs up behind her mother’s back. It seems like a silly gesture, but his heart tugs all the same. He can feel his affection for her like it’s a tangible thing, like he could reach out and hold it in his hand, put it in his pocket.

(And never let it go.)

He knows that his sister is right, that something about finding her alive after so much time thinking she was otherwise has changed things. The way he feels is coursing through his body with a renewed energy, brimming closer to the surface than it ever has. His inability to stay more than ten feet away from her is making it even more difficult, like the morning that he’d woken up next to her to find that the day before wasn’t a dream.

Even though she hadn’t looked at him, he’d felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment, lost in feeling her so close. Getting up had been the only thing to alleviate the stress on his lungs, the only thing that had kept him from doing something incredibly stupid.

(Like kiss her.)

He thought it would get easier, but nearly two days have passed and he still thinks about kissing her nearly every time he sees her. He plays scenario after scenario over in his head of how he could tell her, if he was brave enough. A few times already, he’s seriously considered pressing his luck anyway, damning the consequences on his heart.

His ability to take a step back and walk away isn’t going to last forever, he knows.

He has to tell her.

Breaking his gaze away from Clarke, he looks back at Octavia, sighing. “You’re right.”

She nods, standing, back to business, any sign of the emotion that had arose during the conversation disappearing. “Damn right I am.”

And then she’s gone.

\------

“I haven’t really seen you all day.”

Echo finds him before he can find her, walking up and leaning against the railing of the bunker next to him. Most of the people aren’t in it, out enjoying the world, but it’s still serving as a base, as a place to sleep for some.

She leaves a foot between them, twining her fingers together in front of her. Bellamy takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the worst.

(He was never any good at these type of things.)

“Look, Echo, I—“

“You are going to be with Clarke, aren’t you?”

Her voice is resigned, and when he looks over, her expression is just as unhappy. He wants to reach out to her, try to offer some comfort, but he’s afraid that will only make it worse. His lips part to speak, but then snap back shut.

What is there to say? He knows that there aren’t any magical words that will make this not hurt her.

(God, he doesn’t want to hurt her.)

“I love her,” is what he eventually whispers, watching as she nods.

“I know.” She shakes her head, exhaling slowly. The smile that graces her features is grim. “I knew that your heart belonged to her long before anything ever happened between us, even before Praimfaya. Even when you thought she was dead, I knew that you could never completely be with someone else. I knew what I was getting myself into, but… I just never expected her to still be alive.” 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Me either.”

“But she is.” Echo speaks quickly, nearly cutting him off. “And you love her. So you should be with her.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and it falls flat, but it’s all he has. She finally looks over at him, expression more wary now. A moment passes where she just looks at him, and then slowly, she smiles, shifting closer until her head is on his arm. She reaches over, one hand wrapping around his wrist and holding tightly.

“You do not need to apologize, Bellamy. It is not a sin to be in love, nor can it be controlled.” He closes his eyes and leans into her, putting his hand on top of hers on his arm.

“I’m still sorry. Thank you for everything,” he whispers into her hair, his voice coming out rough. Even so, every word is thick with honesty, with gratefulness that he had her when he really needed someone. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

She pulls away then, giving his arm one last squeeze as she does and then shoving at it lightly. “You’re welcome. Now go, get your girl. I’ll be around if you need me.”  

He gives her a shrug. “You never know. She might turn me down. I might come crawling back to you.”

He’s trying to joke, but Echo’s expression stays serious. She shakes her head, glancing behind him. “I really doubt that.”

When he turns, he sees Clarke has walked in and she’s looking in their direction. She picks up a hand and waves, then quickly turns and starts talking to her mother beside her, even as her gaze trails again to him. Turning back to Echo, he finds a smirk on her features. His mind is still trying to come up with a retort when another voice breaks the silence.

“You guys down for a celebration?” Murphy slides between them, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. “We’ve got an old boombox, a fire, and we survived a death wave set on total destruction. I’d say it’d be a crime _not_ to party.”

Echo raises her eyebrows at him and he pulls them both with him without waiting for a response. “No need to answer. I know you guys are down for a good time.”  

\------

“You know, you’re supposed to have fun at these type of things.”

Clarke turns from where her back is against a concrete wall, one that is still standing after the tower fell. Her eyes narrow and he grins, raising an eyebrow at her. Leaning against the wall next to her, he nudges her with his elbow as she rolls her eyes.

“I am.”

“Right.”

She laughs, the sound bubbling from deep in her chest. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and just watches, her eyes shining in the light of the fire not too far in front of them.

_So beautiful._

“I am,” she defends again, elbowing him back. “I am enjoying watching everyone having a good time. It’s… it’s nice to see everyone so relaxed and happy.”

Something flashes in her expression as her smile fades, a fleeting glimmer of doubt that is gone just as quickly as it came. She’s worried, he knows, about the other group of people, waiting for the trouble that always seems to find them.

“Who is Madi attached to today?” he asks, trying to distract her.

“She’s grown really fond of Raven, I think.” Clarke’s smile returns, but she crosses her arms over her stomach, her hands fingering at the fabric of her shirt. “It’s weird not having her at my side all the time, but… I’m glad she’s meeting new people. She likes your stories best though.”

Clarke glances at him out of the corner of her eye, and he smirks back. “Yeah?”

“Maybe she just likes _you_ best.” 

He feels his cheeks warm at the way Clarke is looking at him, thankful for the shadows that he knows are partially hiding his face. “I’m honored,” he manages to say through the tightness in his throat.

Clarke’s teeth flash for a moment as she turns toward him just a little more. “So you got really close with Echo, huh?”

He can hear the underlying question in her tone, and _oh God, does she actually care_?

“We were all in a ship together for years. I got close with everyone.” It isn’t a straight answer, but she nods and doesn’t press any further, looking back toward the fire just as a smoother song starts playing from Raven’s makeshift speakers. His heart starts racing as people seem to start pairing off, slowly swaying to the music.

_“You have to try, you have to tell her.”_

She’s quiet, seeming perfectly content to lean against the wall with him and watch. Her shoulder is touching his arm, just barely, but still enough to make the spot feel warm. She probably doesn’t want to dance. Or would prefer someone else.

_“No being too scared or asking yourself a million ‘what if’s’.”_

As if sensing his gaze, she looks over. He tries to tell his brain to play it off, to break their eye contact before she thinks it’s strange. However, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t pull his eyes away.

_“Don’t waste your second chance, Bell.”_

Taking a deep breath and giving her his best smile, he holds out a hand. “Come on, Princess. Dance with me?”

There’s a moment where the world is still and she processes his request, a moment that feels so long, like every second is magnified by a million. Just when he’s about to laugh and try to retract the statement, one corner of her mouth quirks up and she pushes herself off of the wall. When she puts her hand in his, his chest squeezes and he barely manages to make his feet move enough to pull her closer to the fire where couples are gathered.

His heart is burning as hot as the flames beside them, a million tiny sparks flaring into existence as she steps in close to him, her free hand coming up to rest on his upper arm. Another comes to life as he rests his own on her waist, and then they’re dancing, feet stepping side to side to the rhythm of the song that’s playing.

Doing his best to steady his heartbeat and breathing, he tugs her just a little closer with the hand on her waist, until their faces are only a few inches apart. He could kiss her if he wanted. She’s close enough, her lips only a few inches away.

Instead, he looks over her head for a moment at the darkness behind her, his eyes scanning what’s left of Polis until the urge has passed.

He doesn’t have the bravery to let himself do that just yet.

“You’re right. This is a little more fun.”

Her voice pulls him back and he meets her eyes. “Yeah?”

She nods, grip on his arm tightening a little. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem, babe.”

_Oh, God_. He didn’t mean to say that. He waits, watching closely even as he tries to act as if it’s not a big deal.

Her tongue presses into the inside of her cheek for a moment and then she shifts until her head is resting on his chest, right above his heart.

(Can she tell how hard it’s beating for her?)

He exhales the breath he was holding slowly, hoping she didn’t notice. They’re barely moving now, just the slightest shift of their bodies back and forth. Testing the waters just a little more, he presses his lips to her forehead, letting them linger against her skin before pressing his cheek to the spot.

She doesn’t push him away or try to change their position, so he closes his eyes and appreciates their closeness. She’s warm and unbelievably soft, and when he brushes his thumb up and down on her hip she inhales a little sharply. That makes him smile—that maybe, just maybe, being this close is affecting her, too.  

He could tell her now. No one is close enough to hear them, and this moment feels special, like it’s just theirs to hold. As he’s mulling over phrasing and such in his mind, trying to decide if he can truly go through with it at this moment, she picks up her head and raises an eyebrow.

“You’re thinking about something really hard,” she tells him, tilting her head. “Are you okay?”

The smallest laugh escapes him. “Better than okay. I’m still just… reveling in the fact that you’re alive. I… I really sucked at living without you, Clarke.”

It isn’t a love confession, really, but her mouth falls open just a bit anyway. Her eyes trail to her hand on his arm, where her fingers are absentmindedly playing with the hem of his shirt. A tiny smile pulls up the corners of her lips. “I kind of sucked at living without you, too.”

After she’s spoken, her face shifts and for a moment she looks shocked, like even she wasn’t aware the words were true until they were said aloud. He should tell her now. Now is quiet, and still, and it’s just the two of them. They might not get another moment like this anytime soon.

“Clarke, I---“

“A party? And you didn’t invite us? And here I thought we were friends.”

_Damn it_.

Clarke’s eyes snap shut and he can practically feel her fear as if it were his own. Her grip on his arm tightens. Her body is stiff against his. She inhales and exhales deeply, then she opens her eyes and turns toward where the voice came from.

It’s George, with three other men, and they’re definitely not happy.

Clarke turns back to him, her arms slipping away from him and back to her sides. “Come with me?”

He nods, squeezing her hip in what he hopes is a comforting way before pulling his own arms away. ”Lead the way, Princess.”

\------

“Mind some company?”

Clarke turns her head from where she sits on some concrete blocks in front of the fire. Bellamy is standing a few feet behind her, hands tucked in his pockets. She lifts her chin in beckoning, and a few moments later he’s sitting next to her, his knee bumping against hers.

“You okay?”

_Not at all_.

The area has cleared considerably, only a few people still hanging around after the other men had agreed to talk tomorrow, Madi and Raven included. None of them are in earshot, but when she speaks, she still whispers. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

His head turns and she can feel his eyes, but she stares at Madi across the fire, the way her body is leaning against Raven’s and her eyelids are becoming heavier. “Do what?”

“Be a leader, do what everyone needs me to do.” Her throat is tight as she speaks. She closes her eyes as hard as she can and tries to calm her heart, beating so hard in her chest that it hurts. This isn’t his problem, she knows, but the words spill past her lips like a flood. “I’ve been alone for six years, with just Madi. I haven’t had to deal with other people, haven’t had anyone but a little girl looking up to me. But now we’re all here and everyone is looking at me like… like they’re still expecting me to figure things out and make decisions. And I don’t know if I can.”

Her chest lightens just a bit as she speaks, some of the weight shifting to him. She feels guilty for putting it on him, for pulling him into all of her doubts and insecurities. It’s what they did before, sure, but are things different now? Will he still help her carry the burden of their people, or has too much time passed?

For a moment, the only sound is the low crackling of the fire and their breathing, but then he reaches over and picks up one of her hands. He rests them on her leg and waits, waits until she looks over at him. When she does, one corner of his mouth lifts.

“Being a leader isn’t something you learned and can unlearn, Clarke.” He sounds so sure, his voice as firm as his grip on her hand. “It’s part of who you are.”  

“It doesn’t feel like it right now.” She holds tightly to his hand, trying to anchor herself to it. She had managed to avoid conflict for now, had gotten George to agree to a meeting tomorrow, to figure out how to coexist. It terrified her, every moment of the conversation, every inch of movement from the other men, every time one of them started to speak. “Plus, I don’t even know if I was that good at it to begin with.”

“You’re hard on yourself,” he says, his thumb brushing back and forth over her knuckles. She lets the sensation comfort her, resisting the sudden urge to crawl into his lap like a child. “You don’t see… what I see.”

He isn’t looking at her anymore, instead staring at the ground in front of them. His lips are pursed, brows furrowed. She knows he’s carrying something heavy, something unrelated to this other group. She’s felt it pretty much since they returned to Earth, recognized that there was something deep on his mind. Yet, here she is, throwing even more on his shoulders and he’s taking it without a complaint.

_Why_?

“What do you see?” Her voice is weak, her throat tight. She can feel the beginning of tears pooling in her eyes. She knows that she’s so close to breaking and maybe his hand in hers is the only thing holding her together.

But she needs to know why.

“I see…” He pauses, and she thinks she hears him swallow. “I see someone kind, who puts everyone else above herself, who would do anything for those lucky enough to be loved by her. I see someone strong, someone smart, someone inspiring. I see… a girl that was forced to be an adult too soon but handled it as best she could. I see someone who people follow without question because they’d be stupid not to. Making mistakes along the way doesn’t mean you aren’t a good leader, Clarke. It just means you’re human and make mistakes. You _are_ a leader, even if you are a little out of practice.”

His words hit somewhere deep inside of her, and she can feel them trying to heal her, trying to fix the shattered pieces of her even though she hasn’t earned it.

Maybe she was just meant to be broken.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she reaches up to rub her eyes and finds moisture on her cheeks. She takes a breath and tries to calm herself down, but when Bellamy pulls her into his arms, a sob escapes and she lets herself cry into his shirt even as guilt wracks her body.

“You have so much faith in me,” she whimpers quietly, and she thinks she feels his lips in her hair, thinks she hears him whisper her name.

She doesn’t deserve him.

“Every bit of it is earned,” he tells her, hands squeezing her shoulder. A moment passes, and he leans back, one hand coming up to brush away the wetness on her face. The other stays around her waist. “And you’re not alone. You have your mom, and Kane, and—“

“And you.” Letting him know how important he is feels like the least she can do. “I can’t do this without you.”

He tilts his head at her, the smallest of smiles lighting up his face. “You could, but you’re not going to.”

She nods quickly, both hands coming up to finish wiping the tears off of her cheeks. “Good.”

Something in his expression shifts in a way that makes her breath catch, but when he opens his mouth, another voice speaks.

“I’m ready for sleep.”

_Madi_.

She’s dragging her feet to where they sit, rubbing at her eyes. A glance out at the fire shows that Raven has gone, most likely turned in for the night as well. “Okay, we can go back to the Rover.”  

Not waiting for her, Madi turns and starts heading in that direction, still trudging slowly. Clarke stands, Bellamy’s arms falling away from her.

Turning back to him, she gives him the best smile she can muster. “Thank you, Bellamy.”

It isn’t nearly enough, but he smiles sweetly at her like it is. “Any time.”

She goes then, catching up to Madi’s side easily. Madi acknowledges her and then frowns, looking back over her shoulder. “Bellamy, are you coming?”

Clarke glances back, too, eyes wide when they meet Bellamy’s. He raises his eyebrows and she immediately knows that he’s asking her permission, asking if it’s okay with _her_.

Which means he _wants_ to.

A moment passes where she can’t breathe, which is _stupid_ , because _it’s just sleep_ and he’s slept with them in the Rover before, but he’s still checking on her, still making sure that he’s welcome.

She can’t imagine him ever not being welcome.

So, she smiles and gives him the tiniest nod.

“Yeah,” he says as he stands and walks over to where they’re waiting, a smile on his face. “I’m coming.”

She falls asleep with Madi’s head tucked into her chest and Bellamy’s steady breath on her neck, hoping with everything inside of her that she can be the woman that they think she is.


	3. Three

“You’re staring, _again_.”  

Bellamy quickly shifts his eyes even though he recognizes that it’s pointless, acknowledging Octavia as she comes to stand beside him. She raises a knowing brow, and he furrows his, feigning confusion even as he can feel his cheeks warm.

“I’m not—“ he tries, but she shakes her head and he stops, exhaling heavily. His gaze goes back to where it was before she walked up, on Clarke where she stands talking with Niylah. He thinks he sees their gazes flick to him, but he can’t be sure.

“You haven’t told her yet.”

Irritation flares for just a moment, a quick flash of annoyance that she sees through him so easily. “Haven’t exactly had a good time to,” he replies tersely, tucking his hands into his pockets and leaning even further in the wall at his back. He almost wishes he could absorb himself into it just to get away from the judgment of Octavia’s eyes.

“Well, if you haven’t gotten the guts to tell her how you feel, you have no right to be standing over here sulking and being jealous.” Her words are sharp and focused, each one a distinct stab that he just takes until--

“Jealous?” The word falls from his lips incredulously, but when he looks back in their direction, he sees them locked in an embrace. It’s short, but it still makes his stomach drop. 

“Yeah didn’t you know? They had a thing.” Octavia is watching him and he’s trying to keep his composure, but his throat is too tight and his heart is beating too quickly.

(He’s afraid that maybe he’s already too late, that maybe there was never a chance to begin with, that maybe all the time she spent alone, she missed someone else more than she missed him.)  

“I didn’t, actually.” His voice is chipped, and he feels his sister shift, almost like she’s uncomfortable.

“I don’t…” She sounds unsure, and a part of him recognizes that it’s probably for his benefit. “I don’t think it was anything serious though. Plus it’s been six years, and—“

“It’s been six years for me, too, O.”

“Right.”

Silence falls between them, the ache in his chest settling like a wound. When he glances over at Octavia, she seems deep in thought, her eyes on the wall in front of them but her mind somewhere else.

Maybe telling her isn’t the best idea. Maybe things staying the way they are is easier. Maybe it was stupid to ever think that things could be different.

But then Clarke says goodbye to Niylah and walks over to him, greeting Octavia briefly before turning to him. Just having her stand this close to him is making him crazy, makes him wish he could kiss her without a fear of the repercussions. She smiles, but it’s a small, tight, upward turn of her lips that lets him know she’s talking business. “Can I run something by you?”

Unable to fathom getting words out of his mouth at the moment, he nods, and she gestures for him to follow her into the room that she calls hers. She closes the door once they’re both inside, pulling a hand drawn map out of her back pocket and unfolding it as he sits down on her cot.

“I was thinking about something, and I wanted to get your opinion on it because you’re good at these kind of things,” she’s saying, lips pursed at the map in her hands. “I mean, you’re good at most things, but I trust your judgment the most so I wanted to know what you thought.”

_I’m in love with you_.

Staring down at the floor as she continues to assess her map, he knows that he has to tell her. Even with all the ways that it could go badly, he has to _try_. Something’s changed in him, something that no matter how much he tries, he can’t shake it. Pretending otherwise or avoiding it won’t work, not this time. He can feel it, pulsing and burning in his veins with every beat of his heart. It was foolish to ever think, that after so long thinking she was dead, he could ever go back to the way things were.

Not, at least, without letting her know the truth.

“I was wondering if we should try to make more specific barriers between us and the other group,” she says when he doesn’t respond, barely glancing up at him “If that would be more effective than what we have now. There’s a river a few miles east of here that might work. What do you think?”

He takes a breath and levels his eyes with hers, briefly wondering if she’ll be upset that he’s changing the subject so abruptly. “Clarke, I’m in love with you.”

The words come out quickly but easily, slipping past his lips like he was making a comment about the weather or asking her to sew his jacket pocket. They’ve been held back for a little too long, he figures, waiting and wanting to be let out so badly that they burst forward without much effort once released.

“What?” Her eyes flick back to her map, almost as if he _had_ made a suggestion about boundaries. Confusion settles onto her features for a moment, her brows furrowing as she stares at the piece of paper she holds.  

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, surprised that it’s just as easy the second time. He smiles just a little at her, his shoulders shrugging. “I have been for a while, and I never said anything. But… coming back, finding you alive after thinking that you were dead? I… I had to tell you.” 

It takes her a second, a moment of processing that their conversation is certainly not going to be about boundaries or the other group at all. Time drags, each second expanding as he watches her, waiting for her to look back at him, to say something. Eventually, she slowly puts the map down on her desk, the only other piece of furniture in the room.

“What about Echo?” she asks, not meeting his eyes, and he shakes his head, laughing a little incredulously.

“I thought you were dead and she was there to help. She’s my friend. That’s all.” She meets his eyes and he stands on a brave whim, closing the space between them as he speaks. “She’s not you, Clarke. She never was.”

She nods, though her expression still seems puzzled, like he’s speaking a language that she knows but isn’t fluent in. He’d gotten close enough to her that their shoes are toe to toe, but she doesn’t make any moves away from him. Even so, she purses her lips and her gaze goes back to that damned map, like it’s going to give her answers.

His heart is pounding, and he wishes more than anything that she would look at him, for more than a few seconds so he can try to read her eyes, try to understand what she’s thinking. He wants to kiss her, or come up with something else to say, something that will help her comprehend just how much he loves her. 

“I just needed you to know, I guess.” He can feel himself spiraling into distress now, shaken by the fact that she hasn’t really said anything yet. One of his feet shuffles back, putting a little space back between them, but it doesn’t help him breathe any easier. “After what’s happened, I needed you to know that I spent every day in the Ark wishing that I could see you one more time, to tell you how important you are to me. I wished that I could have had the courage to tell you before you died, so that at least you would have known. It was the worst thing, that I had these feelings for you and never got to tell you, and I thought I would never have the chance again. But now I do. So I had to tell you.”   

He runs out of breath so he stops, gaze glued on her downcast eyelids, mentally begging her to look up. She doesn’t, but he does hear her take a shaky breath.

“I…” she starts, but then closes her mouth, still looking a little lost. She reaches up to scratch behind her ear in what would be the cutest way, if his stomach weren’t in knots. He waits as she seems to think, and then, _finally_ , she meets his eyes and doesn’t immediately avert her gaze. “Bellamy, I’m---“

“Clarke, Bellamy. We have a problem. The other group is here.” It’s Kane, and he looks worried.

When Bellamy looks back at Clarke, her expression has shifted into one he recognizes, one of leadership and doing whatever she needs to do. She glances at him and something flashes in her eyes, but she looks away quickly and it’s gone.

Bellamy sighs and runs a frustrated hand through his hair, but follows right behind her as they walk outside, mentally cursing his luck the whole way.

\------

It doesn’t go well.

The others are angry, convinced that the current settlement agreement isn’t fair, that their group has less resources, less access to water, less livable land.  

There isn’t a lot of them here, Bellamy notices, just enough to be a vague threat. He positions himself right next to Clarke out of habit, one foot in front of hers just in case. Jaha is speaking, saying something about redoing everything. He tries to focus, pulling his attention away from the side of Clarke’s face and keeping it on the people in front of him.

“How do we know you will not simply screw us over again?” One of the men asks, and Bellamy scoffs.

“You know, there’s an entire planet out there. You don’t _have_ to be right up our asses.” He knows the words were a mistake as soon as he’s spoken, but it’s too late. The man closest to him reaches forward and grabs him by the collar, shoving him to the ground. He struggles against the arms that hold him, but they’re stronger than he would have expected. His face makes contact with the concrete below him with another well placed shove and a knee in his back. Wincing, he feels the sting of broken skin just before he feels the gun pressed into the back of his skull.

He hears the commotion, but over all of it, he hears Clarke scream his name. There’s an influx of yelling, and he recognizes voices from both sides, talking over each other, and he has the thought that this isn’t doing them any good just as the barrel of the gun presses a little harder into his head.

Clarke says his name again and he can hear the worry there, but even so, he has the sudden impulse to laugh.

Maybe dying this way would be some sick poetic justice, to survive a giant wave of radiation fire by going into space, but dying because some dick of a guy doesn’t like his bluntness.

He cranes his neck so that he can see what’s going on, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Clarke, barely being held back by Kane, who is speaking gently to the people in front of him, free hand outstretched with palm forward. Bellamy’s ears are ringing so he can’t really make out the words, but he sees her clearly. She has that worried, frantic expression on her face, the one that usually precedes her doing something rash, and her gaze going back and forth between him and George. George says something and anger flares in her eyes, her jaw stiffening. She opens her mouth as if she’ll retort, probably threats, and it pushes him into action.

(He can’t let her get hurt, too.)   

He sighs, shifting so that his mouth isn’t pressed against the concrete. “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you. We’re trying to live here, too, just like you. There really isn’t any need for all the fighting. It’s a big planet, we can work something out.”  

It seems to do the job, because the pressure on his back and from the gun at his head lessens. He finds Clarke’s eyes again and they’ve calmed, her body still enough now that Kane lets her go just as the weight on the back of his skull disappears. By the time he’s stood up, she’s there, arm curling around his elbow in a way that almost feels possessive, almost makes his heart stop working altogether. She tugs him back toward Kane, but even when they’re back at his side, she doesn’t let go of his arm.

\------

He’s an _idiot_. He’s an idiot and she’s going to kill him if he survives this, she _swears_. Thankfully, between his apology and Kane’s ability to stay calm in nearly all situations, Bellamy is released and it’s agreed that they’ll each have four representatives get together to make the map of territories, and that as seasons change, they’ll have follow ups to see if it needs to be altered.

She’s still holding onto his elbow as the other group walks away, and it’s not until they’re completely out of sight that she relaxes, leaning her face into his shoulder before she’s thought about it.

“You’re an idiot,” she whispers into his sleeve, but it has none of the heat that she had intended. Relief floods through her in waves, trying to banish the picture of him on the ground, a knee in his back and a gun at the back of his head.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mumbles back, and she looks up, preparing to still berate him just a little, but then she sees the blood that is now running down his neck from the scrapes on his face. All of her irritation fades, escaping her in a heavy sigh.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She takes him back into her room after grabbing a wet cloth and some bandages, the map she’d drawn still abandoned on the table. In the silence, everything crashes down on her at once and the air suddenly feels a million times thicker. It’s enough to make her remember the air just before Praimfaya, how hot it had been, how hard it had been to breathe.

Never has she been more at a loss for words. She’s slowly cleaning the cuts on his cheek, on his forehead, taking extra care to make sure that she gets every single spot. Now, without an imminent threat, without the adrenaline of a conflict, his words are replaying over and over in her head, and she can’t, for the life of her, figure out what to say to fill the silence.

_“I’m in love with you. I have been for a while, and I never said anything.”_

He loves her. Bellamy Blake loves her.

(She already knew.)

It’s not that she never thought of them that way, she has. She always just figured it was safer not to pursue anything, not to risk the balance that they had found on the ground as leaders. 

Now, that boundary has been crossed. Now, they might not be able to go back.

Now, he’s sitting on top of the desk in front of her, and somehow she winded up nestled in-between his knees to clean him. Now, he’s completely quiet, most likely waiting on her to say something, to respond to his admission.

Does she love him?

(Yes.)

Is it the same way?

(It could be.)   

She could love him. She knows if she let herself, if she let go of the past hurt and decided to take the chance, loving him that way would probably be easy. He _is_ already her favorite person, her confidant and the balancing other half in their role as leaders. She already can’t imagine losing him, not again. Not after everything.

But is that worth the chance of hurting him, the possibility that he’ll wind up on the list of people that have loved her and been lost? She wasn’t very good at relationships before, but now she’s been without human contact other than Madi for _six years_.

It’s probably going to be messy, if it even works. And they have so much they have to worry about, so much that they’ll need to be in tune for. Will they be able to do that and be together?

Even if she decides the risk is too much, what happens if she turns him down? She glances at his eyes, but they’re focused on the hands in his lap, so she can’t read them. Maybe it would take some time, but then they would be okay. Maybe he wouldn’t be too upset.

_“I need you to know that I spent every day in the Ark wishing that I could see you one more time, to tell you how important you are to me.”_

She thinks of how much she missed him, too, how much she wished she could see him or hear from him, just to know he was alive. She thinks of how much she just wanted to hear his voice, just once, and how every day she was disappointed. She thinks of how much stronger she feels with him by her side, how much support he gives her, how having him around makes her feel complete.

She thinks of how she’s nestled in the v of his hips and doesn’t feel uncomfortable about the position at all.

(The ear-splitting silence, on the other hand…)

This is all running through her head too fast as she’s cleaning the scratches on the side of his face, trying to figure out what she could say to lessen the tension that she can feel coiling around both of them. It’s deep and encompassing, wrapping around her throat and twisting in her stomach, making it hard for her to focus on her task, much less come up with coherent sentences.

She wishes she could string together words to perfectly describe the swirling of emotions she’s feeling, but everything she tries to put together sounds wrong or like it isn’t enough. He’s still staring down at his hands, completely still, and hasn’t looked at her since they came into the room.

She needs to say _something_.

“I don’t want you to think that me not responding is… negative. I’m still sort of… processing.”

_No, damn it. That was bad_.

“Hm.” His eyes still avoid hers, and she can practically feel him hurting. Her chest squeezes in response, and she tries to focus on his wound so that she doesn’t cry. That definitely wouldn’t help her speak any more clearly.

“It’s not that I’ve never thought about it. I just… Before, I never wanted to risk what we had. It was special to me. It still is.”

This time, he doesn’t even hum in response, and her eyes begin stinging with unshed tears. She blinks to clear them, wiping once more at a cut that is already clean. Why is this so hard? She thinks of how he’d spilled his heart to her before, his words sounding like freaking _poetry_ , and now she’s scrambling and trying to figure out how to say what she needs to but failing miserably.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she tries again, a truth that is important for him to know. “I just… I’m scared, Bellamy.”

_That’s a little better_.

He looks up at her then, expression curious, a little bit of concern touching the corners of his eyes. Now, under the pressure of his gaze, she keeps her own eyes trained on the side of his face. “But… that doesn’t mean I don’t have any feelings for you. I mean, I thought about you every day for more than six years. I wanted to talk to you, and sometimes I did, picturing what you would say. I know that… I’ve never trusted anyone as much as I trust you. That you’re my best friend. That I never would have made it down here if it weren’t for you, from the second we’ve been on the ground.”

She’s rambling now, words spilling out of her in a flood, but she can feel his eyes watching her and she can’t seem to get them to stop. “I know that finding out you were alive and okay was the happiest that I have been in… forever. That being around you makes me feel safe and your support means everything to me. But...”

It’s the first pause she’s taken, and his eyes darken just enough for her to notice. Swallowing, she puts down the cloth she was using to clean his face, but doesn’t move away from where she’s standing. Still, she can’t seem to look at him, so she looks down instead. “But there’s so much that could go wrong, Bellamy, or mess up… There’s a lot that we could lose if it doesn’t work. I mean, any relationship I’ve tried to have has been a mess, or they’ve… died. I’m obviously not very good at this, you know? And I don’t want to hurt y-“

His mouth catches hers in the middle of a sentence, effectively silencing her rambles, and she melts into him almost automatically, before she’s even fully processed the response.

She’s sometimes wondered what kissing him would be like. She mostly imagined that it would be sort of like him—rough. She figured it would be strong and fierce, that he’d grip her tightly or have her pressed back against something. She always thought it would be teeth and tongues, messy and intense.

Instead, his lips are soft against hers, his hands still at his sides, giving her plenty of room to pull away if she chooses to.

(She doesn’t.)

His hand comes up gently, cupping her jaw as he presses just a little more firmly, once he’s established that she isn’t stopping him. She feels his other arm come to rest on her waist and she lets him tug her even further in between his legs. It takes her a second, a moment needed for her brain to catch up, but her hands slowly slip up his chest and around his neck, and she kisses him back.

Maybe it’s because she hasn’t kissed anyone in six years (or maybe it’s because it’s Bellamy), but sinking into him is easy, their bodies fitting together like this is something they’ve done a thousand times before.

He makes this small sound at the back of his throat when she tilts her head—somewhere between a sigh and a moan—that makes her entire body feel weak. She leans even further into him and his hold stays firm, though he doesn’t press any harder.

When they part, he keeps his eyes closed for a minute, forehead against hers, sighing heavily. “I’m scared, too, Clarke. I don’t want to mess up what we have, as friends, as leaders, all of it,” he whispers, opening his eyes. They’re soft, _so soft_ , and she realizes that it’s because he isn’t hiding _anything_ now. He’s putting everything out there, giving her the power to destroy him if that is what she decides, knowing that she could but hoping that she doesn’t.

It makes her throat feel tight, and her breathing fails to return to normal, shaking and faltering. She keeps her hands on his shoulders, trying to steady herself in any way possible. Her heart is racing, her mind working overtime, but every instinct she has never wants to let him go.  

His thumb brushes against her cheek with the faintest of touches, and she bites back a shiver. “But I’m so in love with you, Clarke. Six years thinking that you were dead and then finding out you’re alive… I’ve never been surer of anything. I want to be with you. I’m willing to do whatever it is I need to, to try to make it work. If you do have feelings for me at all, and if you’ll take the chance with me, I am all yours.”

She closes her eyes and leans forward until her forehead is on his shoulder. His lips press into the side of her head and stay there, a comforting pressure as she tries to force back all of the chatter in her head that says it’s a bad idea, that she’ll hurt him, or they’ll crash and burn, or it could ruin everything. Instead, she listens to her heart, reaching out for him and begging her to take the risk.

_It’s worth it_.

Taking a deep breath, she picks her head up, meeting his eyes again. Carefully, she lifts a hand from his shoulder to run her fingers along his jaw. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed, and that’s when she leans forward and kisses him. He’s so responsive to the action, his mouth folding around hers immediately, his grip tightening just a little on her waist. Her heart swells in a way that she hasn’t felt in so long, and for the first time since he told her that he loved her, her brain is absolutely quiet.

“Okay,” she whispers against his lips when they pull away. Running her fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp, she nods. “I’m with you.” 

He bites his lip, but it does little to hide the smile that’s pulling up his features. His answering kiss steals her breath. He stands, cupping her face in his hands as he leans down to meet her mouth with his. She stretches up on her toes and secures her arms around his neck, and it’s all she can do to just hold on as the world spins around her.

The grin that he can’t contain eventually separates them, but he keeps his face close to hers, close enough that she can feel his breath fanning her forehead. She moves one of her hands down to his cheek, running her thumb over the dimples that have appeared there.

“I could get used to seeing you smile like this,” she says, letting her finger rest in the indentation.

The dimples deepen until he laughs, the smallest sound that echoes in her brain long after it’s stopped. “Yeah, Princess, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback on this has been a lot more positive than I was expecting since it's my first time writing anything for Bellamy/Clarke, so quick thanks to anyone who has liked, favorited, left Kudos, or commented here, on fanfiction.net, or on tumblr-- which is bellamysgriffinprincess, in case you wanted to check me out! I appreciate it <3


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this! I started classes before I finished it so finishing it from there was a slow process. I’m not super thrilled with how this last bit worked out, but for my first time really fleshing something about for these two idiots who have taken over my life, I’m still pretty proud. Thanks for reading!

“So you’re uncharacteristically not brooding.”  

Bellamy raises his eyebrows at Raven as she falls into step beside him, her eyes narrowed. “Brooding?” 

“Don’t play dumb, Blake. Spill.” She smacks his arm with the back of her hand and he sighs, even though he’s already smiling, unable to help the upward tug of his lips.

He stops walking when he sees Clarke—she’s got an arm around Madi’s shoulder and she’s talking to Murphy and Emori. Madi looks like she hasn’t quite woken up yet, her body relaxed as she leans into Clarke’s side. It’s something that he learned about her after staying in the Rover with them—she takes a little while to become the active child that most people know her to be, as long as there isn’t anything crazy or dangerous happening.

Clarke’s eyes meet his and she smiles—the barest upward tilt of her lips. She lifts her fingers from Madi’s arm to wave them at him briefly. He wants to go over to her, take up the empty space on her other side, but Raven’s already followed his gaze, already processed faster than anyone else probably would, already figured out what’s different without him having to say a word.

“Son of a bitch. You did it, didn’t you?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips as she turns toward him completely. She’s grinning. “You told her.”

“Can’t get anything past you, can I?” he throws back, smirking at the girl standing next to him. She crosses her arms over her chest and raises a brow, waiting. Bellamy huffs, rolling his eyes skyward. “Yes, I told her yesterday.”

“And it went well?”

“And it went well.”

“Yeah, well, as someone who had to deal with you moping for the majority of six years, I’m glad,” she teases, bumping his shoulder with hers. He laughs, the sound falling from his lips so easily that it shocks him because of how unfamiliar it is.

But then, he narrows his eyes and tilts his head at Raven. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

Something she sees in his face makes her chuckle, and she reaches over to cap his shoulder with one of her hands. Her face is scrunched up a little when she replies. “No, no. Of course not. You were a pure ray of sunshine.”

He shoves her lightly, rolling his eyes. “You’re the worst.”

She’s already turned to start walking away, but she stops to toss a grin at him over her shoulder. “You love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “I guess so.”

\------

“There you are.”

“In my room, what a surprise.” Clarke smiles at him from where she sits on her mattress, folding down the page in the book she was reading and setting it aside.

Bellamy chuckles, sitting down beside her and pressing a kiss to her lips. It’s _stupid_ , she knows, but the action shocks her. She jolts just a bit without meaning to, and even though she recovers quickly, he’s already noticed and is pulling away. “Are you okay?”

She berates herself a little, hating the confusion and hurt in his eyes, hating that her body reacted that way, hating that she’s already ruining them and they’ve barely even begun.

(The voice in her head snickers an _“I told you so”_ that makes her stomach twist.)

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her cheeks are suddenly hot, embarrassment spreading all over. “I’m just… I wasn’t expecting it, I guess.”

She shrugs to try to play off her mishap, but hurt flickers across his expression and he shifts away from her just a little. Quickly, she opens her mouth to try to explain, to pull him back from wherever his thoughts are going, to stop him before he gets too far away, and they wind up speaking over each other.

“Oh, sorry. I—“

“No, that’s not what I—“ 

They both stop, and Clarke takes a breath. “I don’t regret us, Bellamy. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want you to kiss me—I do. Okay?”

His eyes meet hers and he nods, but he doesn’t make any moves to close the gap he’s put between them. So, she does, scooting until she’s sitting right beside him, thigh pressed against his. Then, she reaches over and picks up his hand, twining their fingers together.

She waits, willing him to come back to her, to push through the walls that he had so quickly put up to protect himself when he thought she was rejecting him.

(As if.)

When he grips her hand back, she smiles, leaning over to press a kiss to his jaw and then settling her face into his shoulder. His fingers tighten around hers, and after another moment, he relaxes against her, his cheek coming to rest on her hair.

“I want to be with you,” she says, just in case it wasn’t clear. “But it’s just been me and Madi for years. I haven’t had to deal with people, especially not… like this. It’s just going to take me a little time to get used to it, I think. To get used to being with someone again.”

“Okay.”

He sounds normal, but she still picks her head up to look at him. When their gazes meet, he stares for a moment, as if searching for something in her eyes. He’s done it before, but it’s the first time that he seems to find what he’s looking for because he smiles a smile that shoots electricity through her veins.

“Okay,” he repeats, reaching up with his free hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her skin for just a moment before they’re gone. “That’s okay.”

 “So… you want to try that again?” she asks, angling toward him just a little more.

She’s thankful when the question doesn’t throw him off, that he doesn’t hesitate, that not even a flash of uncertainty graces his features. Instead, he lifts his free hand again, cupping her jaw and capturing her mouth with his.

This time, she accepts the kiss easily, reaching up to rest her hand on his chest as his lips move over hers until they need to breathe. He lingers, giving her one more peck before he pulls away fully.

When he asks her about the book she was reading, she picks it up and shows it to him—a book of poems that had been found in the bunker. He winds up reading a few to her as she snuggles into his side, the sweet lift of his voice and the comfort of his presence lulling her to sleep.

Later, she thinks she feels his lips press to her forehead, hears him whisper an “I love you” against the skin there. She clings to the words even in her semi-consciousness, tucking them deep into the cavern of her soul and letting them fill in the empty spaces, healing as they go.

And when she wakes, Bellamy is still there, arm wrapped around her shoulders and book abandoned in his lap. His own eyes are closed from where he leans back against the wall, and she smiles, shaking him awake. “Madi will be looking for us,” she tells him when he opens his eyes. He nods, blinking a few times, but when she offers her hand he takes it easily on their way outside.  

Though Clarke has claimed a room in the bunker as hers for planning, for getting away if she needs a moment, Madi has still insisted on sleeping in the Rover. So, every night, no matter what, she and Bellamy and Madi all crawl into the Rover and sleep there.

It’s like their little routine, the three of them, each night settling in together, Clarke usually in the middle with Madi and Bellamy on either side. They’re both warm, Bellamy usually tucking his face against her shoulder and tangling their fingers together while Madi usually falls asleep with her head tucked under Clarke’s arm.

Even so, it’s not until she wakes up one morning to find Bellamy tossing Madi over his shoulder as she squeals, both of them laughing hysterically, that she really realizes that the three of them have somehow become their own little family.

Dysfunctions and all. 

\------

Bellamy’s sister takes longer than he would have expected.

He thinks that when she walks up to him after he’s kissed Clarke goodbye before leaving to forage, that she’ll have a lot to say. Telling the others he’ll catch up, he turns to her, not entirely sure what words she’ll speak but sure that there will be plenty of them.

Instead, she wraps her arms around his neck and holds for a moment, only a moment, before pulling away.

“I’m proud of you, big brother,” is all she says, the words coming out a little thick. “Don’t mess it up.”

But she smiles, and he does, too.

“Not planning on it.”  

\------

Clarke’s mom is the first person to come straight out and ask about Bellamy, and Clarke is honestly surprised that she hasn’t just taken the word of nearly everyone in the camp that already knows. Most of their people are aware, or at the very least, strongly suspect, either due to word of mouth or seeing them together. Even without hearing it directly, it’s easy to see that something is different.

So, when Abby comes up to her with curious eyes and inquires— “Are you and Bellamy together?”— it shocks her.

_Together_.

It makes something twist inside of her, a spark that feels warm and inviting. It’s the first time she’s heard someone say it, the first time someone has directly asked her what Bellamy is, what they are.

“Yes,” she whispers, glancing down at her hands and shrugging.

There’s a pause, but when Clarke looks up, her mom is smiling. “I always wondered about you two.”

“You did?”

“Sure. You were always different with him. He was, too. It just… makes sense.”  

“You almost sound like you were betting on it,” Clarke accuses, raising a brow.

Abby’s smile turns wistful. “Well, not technically.”

They both laugh, and when the sound falls off, the silence lingers. Finally, Abby puts a hand on Clarke’s shoulder and she looks over at her. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

And that’s it. No one else asks about her and Bellamy, just seems to easily accept the new dynamic—how he presses himself into her side when they stand in a group, the way she reaches for his hand as they make decisions, how sometimes he’ll fall into step beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and bending to kiss her cheek.

Once, she catches Echo’s eye as Bellamy presses his mouth into her temple around a fire, his arm tucked around her waist. It takes a second, a hesitation that Clarke understands—now that she knows what it’s like to be with Bellamy, she can’t imagine ever not being with him—but even she smiles warmly, the smallest curving up of her lips before she looks away.

Sometimes, Murphy will make a joke or Raven will call them “love birds”, but for the most part, no one says anything. It’s as if everyone, like her mother, had been expecting this to happen eventually.  

\------

“There are my two girls,” Bellamy says as he walks up beside Clarke, using an arm over her shoulder to ruffle Madi’s hair affectionately.

“Hey!” she complains, but she’s grinning as she moves from Clarke’s side to his, tucking herself under his free arm. Clarke leans her weight even further into him, and for a moment his throat closes up at the feeling of having both of them there, arms around his waist.

“Were you looking for us?” Clarke asks, tilting her head at him.

“Pretty much always,” he replies easily, squeezing her hip. “You’re my favorites.”

“Me, too?” Madi’s voice is a little quiet, and when he looks down at her, her eyes are wide. Clarke has stilled beside him and he can feel her eyes, watching, waiting to see how he’ll respond.

Pulling away from Clarke, he squats down. The angle makes him a little shorter than Madi, and he takes both of her wrists in his hands and smiles. “ _Especially_ you.”

“Really?” She sounds a little unsure, but her fingers wrap around his and hold.

“Of course,” he tells her, keeping their gazes locked. “You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met, and one of the smartest, too. Plus…” He glances up at Clarke, who is watching them silently, smiling. “You protected Clarke while I was gone. I owe you a lot for that. You’re one of my favorites, Madi.”

She nods, and he frees one of his hands to tap a finger against her nose, eliciting a giggle.

“You’re one of mine, too,” she says, poking his nose in return.

That night, when Madi squeezes herself into the space between him and the side of the rover, he’s a little shocked. Even so, she settles easily there, burying her face into his shoulder, both of her hands sliding into his larger one. Clarke widens her eyes in surprise, but then shrugs at him easily and simply claims her spot on his other side.

They both fall asleep, their breath slowing and evening out as the moments pass, but he lies awake. He leans his head against Clarke’s, tightens his grip around Madi’s palms, takes a moment to appreciate them both tucked into his side.

It feels like home.

\------

“So, can I pry you away from Madi long enough for some one-on-one time?” Clarke glances up at him from underneath her lashes, her smile bright. He wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her into his side. “Please,” he adds, a murmured plea against the shell of her ear.

(He pretends not to notice when she shivers.)

“I don’t think it’s up to me,” she whispers back, glancing to where Madi stands in front of them. She’s talking to Raven, but she looks up at their murmuring, a question in her gaze.

Bellamy fixes her with his best grin.

“Mind if I steal Clarke away for a little bit? We’ll be back in time for me to finish our story from last night.” Bellamy raises a brow at Madi as she purses her lips, knowing just how much she’d been enjoying their tale the night before, how she had fought sleep for as long as she could.

He can’t help but smirk as her eyes slowly light up and she smiles, nodding before latching onto Raven’s arm. He thinks he hears her asking about how radios _actually_ work as he grabs Clarke’s hand and pulls her toward the exit.

“You’re good with her,” Clarke says as the sun touches their skin. She tilts her face into it, and the light catches her hair in a way that almost makes him forget what she said.

“Um, yeah. I guess it’s just still engrained in me, because of Octavia.” He shrugs, and she squeezes his hand, bumping her hip into his as they walk.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now. I definitely don’t think I’m equipped to deal with a teenager on my own.”

He gives her a teasingly exasperated look, tugging on her arm a little. “You dealt with a hundred of them, Clarke.”

“But I had you then, too,” she argues, shaking her head on a chuckle. Her smile comes so easily these days, and he catalogs each one, never letting one pass without taking a second to cherish it. “And I figure we should be able to handle one teenager now, you know?”

“Well, we’ll definitely find out,” he says, picking up their entwined hands to kiss her knuckles. “We’re in this together, Princess.”

“Good.” She laughs again, and they walk for a moment in comfortable silence before she speaks again. “So, are we going anywhere in particular?”

He swings their hands as they walk, prompting an affectionate eye roll from her that he tucks away into his mind as one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. “No, just wanted to steal you away for a minute while we have the time.”

“Ah.” She brings her other hand up to grip his forearm and leans her head against his shoulder. They walk like that for a moment, until they’ve passed the tree line and can no longer see the people behind them. “So, now what?”

He slows their steps to a stop, and while yeah, he’d really just wanted to get away, he suddenly wants nothing more than to kiss her. So, he purses his lips, feigning a thoughtful expression. “Well…”   

Grinning, he backs her up until she’s against a nearby tree. A tiny gasp escapes her as their bodies collide, his hips effectively trapping her, but he cuts it off with his lips. He presses softly even as his grip around her waist tightens. Her hands slide up his chest and rest there as she tilts her head up and kisses him back.  

There’s none of her previous hesitations, and she melts so easily against him that it makes his heart race, and he wonders, not for the first time, how the hell he got so lucky.

Never would he have imagined that this could be his life, that he would one day be making out with Clarke Griffin against a tree like it’s the most normal thing in the world. There had been a time where he thought he would never see her again except in his memories, in the broken pictures of shared moments and missed opportunities. Even when he’d found her, alive and breathing, he didn’t think he could tell her how he felt, much less ever actually wind up with her.

He never thought that he could be so happy— to get everything that he had wanted, but spent so long pretending that he didn’t.

He kisses her until he’s sure his heart is going to burst right out of his chest and then pulls away, sliding his arms up her sides and back down, smiling when it makes her giggle. Her eyes are soft when he opens his own, and she stares at him for so long without speaking that he wishes more than anything that he could read her mind. “What are you thinking?”

She purses her lips. Her hand plays absentmindedly with the collar of his jacket. There’s a pause long enough that he almost gets nervous, wondering what she’ll say. Her smile never falters, though, and eventually, she presses one more kiss to his lips before finally responding. “Just appreciating the moment. Everything is calm right now, and I’m trying to take it in before it gets bad again.”

“Maybe it won’t get bad.” His voice comes out a little thick. He moves one of the hands on her waist to her face, stroking at her cheekbone.

“Maybe,” she allows, nuzzling her nose against his. “I was also thinking that I really like kissing you.”

Her lips press to his again, gently at first. Using her grip on his coat to pull him closer, her mouth moves over his slowly, her tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip. Her other hand slips under his shirt, her nails scratching gently against his stomach. He sighs into her mouth at the sensation, hips pressing her even tighter between him and the tree at her back.

The moan that slips past her lips is sweet and makes every part of him feel electrified, and he can’t remember the last time he took a breath, but he doesn’t even care. She starts to push his jacket over his shoulders and he pushes up her own shirt just enough to get his hands on the skin at her waist, hot to the touch.

It makes her whimper against his mouth, and he’s losing a battle against his better judgment. Lost in the warmth of her skin and considering the consequences of taking her against a tree only a few hundred yards from the rest of their people, he jumps when a voice reaches them.

“Clarke? They’re looking for you and Bellamy back at the bunker.”

Their lips separate, but he doesn’t let her move any farther. Clarke keeps her arms on him, too, and he glances up to see Madi, who doesn’t seem to be too shocked to find them in their current predicament. 

“Of course they are,” he mutters, only loud enough for Clarke to hear.

Clarke nods. “Yeah, we’ll be right there.”

Her voice is weak and she clears her throat to repeat herself, but Madi has already headed back in the other direction. Bellamy takes a deep breath and puts his head on Clarke’s shoulder. She grips the back of his neck, the hand that was under his shirt coming up to rest on his shoulder, straightening his jacket as she goes.

“Do you think we have time, or…” Her voice is curious, and he can nearly hear her thoughts despite her pulse in her neck beating loud in his ear.

“Maybe,” he admits, tracing his thumb against the skin at her waist that is still peeking out. And he considers it for a moment, but in the end, he sighs, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. “But our first time isn’t going to be in a hurry against a tree, Clarke.”

He feels her nod, her cheek pressing to his hair. “Second time?”

A chuckle falls past his lips against her collarbone, and he smirks at the shiver that runs through her. “Okay,” he mumbles. “If that’s what you want.”

Silence lingers for a moment, both of them unwilling to move until they hear their names being shouted in the distance. He knows that if they don’t go now, someone else will come looking for them.  

“Duty calls, Princess,” he mumbles, tugging her shirt down reluctantly. He shifts enough to kiss her neck and then stands straight, holding out a hand to her that she takes as they walk back toward the center of camp.

“You think we’ll need to Madi the talk now?” she asks, and Bellamy shakes his head.

“No way, that’s all you.”

She rolls her eyes, bumping her hip into his. “Jerk.”

His step stutters only a little, and he separates their hands to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her into his side and pressing his laugh against her hair. “I love you.”

It’s not like it’s the first time he’s said it, even casually. He likes to remind her, likes to makes sure that she never forgets, likes the way the words roll easily off of his tongue, the way the truth of them rings clear in his mind every single time.

But it is the first time that she meets his eyes after instead of avoiding them, the first time that she smiles brightly up at him instead of hiding her face. It’s the first time that she nods, just a little, leaning up to press her lips to the underside of his jaw. It’s the first time that she whispers an “I know” into the skin of his neck, the words warm against his skin long after she’s pulled away.

A few hours later, she tugs him into her room at the bunker and locks the door, grinning with he raises a brow. “You got some time?” she asks, already slipping her fingers into his belt loops, pulling his hips flush against hers.

“For you? Hell, yeah, Princess.”

She giggles into his kiss, and he’s aware that it’s quiet outside. He briefly wonders what everyone is doing, what exactly gave Clarke the opportunity to slip away, how long they’ll have before someone comes looking. He doesn’t linger on it long, too caught up in how easily she fits against him, how soft her skin is underneath his fingers when she takes off her shirt. Her hands find his belt buckle soon after, tugging desperately.

But he slows her down, grips her hands in his as he takes his time pressing his lips against her chest, her stomach, everywhere that he can. She laughs breathily when his mouth skims her sides, and he makes sure to tuck that information away.

He definitely wants to hear that sound again. 

After he’s satisfied that he kissed every inch of her body, he slips off his belt and she’s there, helping him discard the rest of his clothing. When he buries himself inside her, he whispers that she’s beautiful and that he loves her, pressing the words into her neck. She nods, kissing him harder than she ever has, and she doesn’t say the words, but he feels them as if she had, reverberating in his chest as she wraps her legs around his waist and prompts him to move.

And later, as they lay beside each other in the light of her lamp, she reaches over and brushes some of the hair off of his forehead and he feels every atom of love that she has for him as if she were tattooing every single one on his skin. It’s overwhelming and encompassing, pulsing in his veins so hard that he wonders if she can hear it, feel it ebbing and flowing everywhere that she touches.

He kisses her, pressing just enough to make his heart swell in his chest. The familiarity of it makes him feel weak. “I love you,” he whispers into her lips when they part, his thumb brushing against her jaw. “I love you so much, Clarke Griffin.”

She smiles and even though he knows, he still feels a rush of warmth flood through him when she says, “I love you, too.” 


End file.
